Hell's Rebels IC

[Rofltrollcopter]

The Angelic Amphibian hopped to the side, getting an angle on the same Redactor that Eva had targeted. It reached out with its toothless maw and attempted to envelop the man's head. Scrap was engaged by the carnage below. He had been forced to stalk these Prey for an entire week. The fact that he had been able to keep himself from trying to tear their throats out was an extraordinary demonstration on patience. He raised his new toy to his side and fired. Several people at the Nest's had looked worried when Laria had given Scrap his new toy. They blathered on and on about 'restraint' and 'friendly fire' and all sorts of other boring stuff. Now he had a chance to use his toy on something squishy. He stood up on the edge of the roof and shot downwards.

OoC:

Spoiler

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Frog
Bite attack : (1d20+5)[18]
Damage:(1d6+4)[5]

Scrap (will change target if the Frog downs the first monk)
crossbow:

attack: (1d20+4)[22]
damage: (1d8)[2]

[Farmerbink]

Lamashan 2, 4715

Lillisandra's breathing relaxes as the woman is knocked unconscious. "Good. Stay close." She slowly feels her way through the fog, and opens the door.

Lamashan 8, 4715

A gentle, floating laugh eases from Lillisandra's voice as the man's fist connects solidly with her shield. "I'm yours, am I? I'm afraid you haven't paid enough for that, yet." Lillisandra takes a moment to sheathe her rapier, and reaches out with a glowing palm. "Come now, you can do better than that."

Spoiler: actions & stats

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Spoiler: stats

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Lillisandra Moordaine
F CN Drow Cleric, Level 3, Init 5, HP 23/23, DR SR 9 (6+LVL), Speed 20
AC 21, Touch 13, Flat-footed 18, CMD 14, Fort 4, Ref 3, Will 6, CMB 0, Base Attack Bonus +2
MW Rapier +6 (1d6, 18-20, x2)
MW Hand Crossbow (20 bolts (Drow Poison x3)) +6 (1d4, 19-20, x2)
Whip +1 (Disarm, Nonlethal, Trip) +6 (1d3, x2)
Breastplate, - Heavy Wooden Shield (+6 Armor, +2 Shield, +3 Dex)
Abilities Str 10, Dex 16, Con 12, Int 7, Wis 17, Cha 13
Condition (Seducer) Charm person: 1/1
Touch of chaos: 5/6
Dazing touch: 6/6
Channel energy: 4/4
Lesser Confusion 1/1
Bane 1/1
Protection from Evil 1/1
Unfilled 1st level slot: 1
Touch of Idiocy: 1/1
Hold Person: 1/1
Align Weapon: 1/1

"cast" touch of chaos, incurring an AoO:
(1d20+5)[9] vs touch AC. If successful, targeted monk has to roll each d20 twice, and take the lower.

[Morbis Meh]

Eva recoils slightly from the blows but remains standing during her dance, though almost out of breath she continues pressing the attack against the target, selecting the one that was currently occupied with the frog. Taking careful aim she lashes out at the man while minding the conjured frog, they needed all the help they could get so harming any ally would be a bad idea.

Spoiler: OoC

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Attack the grappled monk... hehehe a monk being grappled is just too funny
to hit (1d20+8)[12]
damage (nonlethal)(1d4+6)[8]

Oh look my craptastic rolls are back, who would have guessed? Maybe Cultist will roll double 20's and kill Eva this round . Though it may be a hit considering the mook is grappled.

[NeoSeraphi]

The knight hears Eva's surprised scream of pain and it jars him somewhat from his depression. Rolling his eyes at the notion that these guys couldn't even handle a few scribes on their own, he marches forward, drawing his weapon as he does so, and places himself firmly next to Scrap with steel eyes anchored right at the monk.

Spoiler

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Movement reflected on Roll 20

[3SecondCultist]

Seeing his third compatriot fall to Eva's blade, the last Asmodean monk falls to his knees rather than risk a beating himself. His hands are clearly shaking from the brief encounter, and the prospect of going up against the five of you when you've so clearly demonstrated your prowess is daunting enough for him to surrender outright. "P-please don't hurt me! I'll do anyth-thing! What is it you want?" The man's wide eyes dart from the magically disguised elf standing directly in front of him, to the halfling with the sword, and to the armored Hitori taking up the rear. His fear is palpable, and his candor believable.

Spoiler: OOC

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I'm giving you XP as if you had defeated all of these monks in combat, plus an extra 100 each for completing that combat in under a single round. A very effective ambush, well done! Your totals will be updated in the OP.

[Rofltrollcopter]

Oh! I know. Lets play a game! Scrap got a grip on the bricks on the side of the building. He had a bit of trouble, but he managed to scale down. He felt the stares of the audience around them. They wanted to see a show, and they were getting really bored. How about Riddles, they like Riddles. Scrap stood there for a moment, lost in thought as he contemplated what to ask. The Artist had a great suggestion. A feral gleam entered Scrap's eyes, and spoke up slowly. Why should we let you live? He practically purred out the last few words, and a maniacal grin crept up his face. His body language and the way he held himself seemed a bit off then how he normally behaved, it seemed to be almost a mimicry of Lillisandra.

[NeoSeraphi]

The warrior places his mace directly in front of Scrap, pushing the boy gently just a step back. "Ignore him. We accept your surrender. You will not be killed, as long as you do not try to fight or warn anyone else."

He gestures to the other monks. "We will even offer you a moment to examine your companions. If they are alive, we will use our power to spare them. If they are dead, you may have a moment of grief. In exchange, we expect information and cooperation. What say you?"

His voice is tired, but it is not threatening. He speaks honestly, and the unholy symbol of Asmodeus around his neck marks him as an honest and honorable warrior.

Spoiler

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Diplomacy: (1d20+8)[14]

[3SecondCultist]

The Asmodean calms down a little bit at the offer of terms, nodding his thanks at Hitori. He seems somewhat confused at the appearance of an unholy symbol, and although it does change his demeanor, he says nothing on the subject. He gets up slowly, moving from one body to the next as he checks their pulses. The results appear to calm him further, as he realizes that his companions are not only alive, but in no danger of bleeding out here in the street. It still takes him a minute to gather his wits to the point where he's comfortable speaking again.

"Thank you, sir." He appears unsure of the appropriate address for Hitori, but clearly wants to try to observe some niceties. He avoids looking at Scrap, likely for fear of setting the half-elf off in some way. "You are merciful indeed, sir. The others should be okay, any healing you can give them would be appreciated. As for information," he pauses, unsure how to continue, "what information are you looking for? I'm guessing you want to know what we're doing on our way to the Fantasmagorium?"

[NeoSeraphi]

The knight sheathes his weapon. "'Sir' is just fine. I am no lord. And my alliegance rests with The Lord of the Nine Himself. The temple can rot for all I care."

After the monk asks for healing, Hitori nods. "Your Grace, if you would?"

He glances at the others and sighs.

Spoiler: Infernal

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"There is a prelate-in-training at the temple. You may not know her by name, but merely the sight of her would take your breath away. If you've seen her, tell me what she's been up to."

[Morbis Meh]

Eva silently accepts the terms Hitori laid out in mute approval, she feared for a moment that he would endorse Scrap's idea but he confirmed that he was a somewhat reasonable individual. Eva takes a moment to daintily spit out a mouthful of blood before invoking the might of her goddess to heal herself before addressing their captive.

"For interests sake that would be useful but we require more information on that, we require further data on the building itself: How many floors, floor layout and number of people that you currently have here. If you don't have exact information that is fine but do try to be as accurate as you can manage. Once we are done discussing these matters you will be bound and gagged, if you cooperate fully we promise no further harm will come to you or your companions. Are we clear?"

Spoiler: OoC

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Using one spell of CLW (1d8+3)[4] Edit: Yep I knew the board was going to screw me over.... rolling minimal for the d8 and a 5 for the d20 splendid

She may as well roll a diplomacy check to this guy (1d20+16)[21]

[zimmerwald1915]

Cynissa raises an eyebrow at Hitori's comments in Hellspeech, but says nothing. Instead, she follows Eva and Lilly among the unconscioius templars, stripping them of anything with Asmodeus's star. Whatever else happens, they'll need the symbols to pass the zombies. "What's your name?" she says when she's done, straightening up and handing the insignia out to her comrades. "Can you tell us about your boss, and about the devil-woman you mentioned? What are their names? What kind of people are they? To whom do they report? What capabilities do they have?"

Spoiler: OOC

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One more Diplomacy check for the pile: (1d20+13)[26]

[3SecondCultist]

Lillisandra, Lamashan 2, 4715

The door opens with a small creak, despite your efforts to remain silent. Stepping out of the spell's area of effect, you find yourself in a modest room. There's a dresser on the left wall, and a small closet space to the right. A four-poster bed takes up the majority of the space, with a lit candle on the table next to it. A man lies on top of the sheets, in a plain tunic. His right leg is raised in a kind of sling, and is covered in bandages. You can see a few distinct points of red where the blood threatens to seep through, and he moans softly. Based on the smell and the state of his stubble, he hasn't left this bed in several days. Fortunately, his eyes are closed.

There, by his bedside table, is a barely touched tray of food. Apparently, the man's appetite has yet to return to him, so convincing him to eat anything of his own volition might be a bit harder than you anticipated. Still, it's not every day a potential victim is so helpless and bedridden. It doesn't look like you will meet any resistance here.


Lamashan 8, 4715

The unholy symbols you find on the redactors' clothing are present as patches of their robes, and so the choice becomes whether or not to rip off the insignias or just take the robes and leave these monks out in the wet cold in nothing but their smallclothes. The conscious monk - who introduces himself as Jaray - watches your inspection of the corpse and the uncomfortable light of realization dawns in his eyes. "I'm guessing you already know some of the answers, don't you?" When none of you reply, he purses his lips and eventually continues.

"The Fantasmagorium is just the one floor. The Church has organized our group into several cells of four, and we go in every twelve hours for shifts on an alternating schedule. This is our third shift this week. Our boss - his name is Azvernathi Raul, he's a known cleric at the Church - is on permanent assignment there, has been since the place was first stormed a few weeks back." At the mention of the devil-woman, Jaray appears flustered again, but he's already begun to speak, so he sees no point in stopping now. "There's another team below, in the hidden base. We don't know where the entrance is, since none of us were part of the initial crew that came in... but the devil-woman, she's been down there with another group the whole time. Only Azvernathi has had contact with her. He's spineless, lets her boss him around. None of us know her name, just that she reports directly to the Lord Mayor himself. From what I heard around the precept, she's got the powers of a devil, but I've never seen her!"

Hitori's Infernal inquest only results in a look of confusion, although he does reply in kind.

Spoiler: Infernal

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"A prelate at the Temple? You'll have to be more specific, even High Proest Grivenner's inner circle is substantive. What's her name?"

[NeoSeraphi]

Hitori frowns, ignoring everything else that's been said. The others can worry about their little infiltration mission, he had to know what was going on behind the scenes.

Spoiler: Infernal

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"Her name is Azalea. She is very skilled in divine magic. She is unwed. Thin. Red hair. Eyes that pierce your soul."

[Farmerbink]

Lamashan 8, 4715

Lillisandra makes no effort to hide rolling her eyes at Hitori's request for healing. After all, someone should at least pretend to be the bad cop- might as well be her. In a terse, irritable voice, she says, "Bind them, first. I've no desire to risk having to convince them-" she nods in the direction of the three unconscious monks- "to be as smart as our friend here." Her tone leaves little debate as to her level of concern for his well-being, but once the task is completed, she withdraws her holy symbol long enough to channel a pulse of Calistria's blessing through it.

Spoiler: Channel Positive

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(2d6)[3] HP for everyone- 3/4 channels remaining

She stands impassively as the result of the healing makes itself known in both the monks and Eva.

When the captured monk suggests that they know the answers they seek, Lillisandra raises a pointed eyebrow. She squats on her haunches, to better display her expression of forced indulgence, and answers him without answering him. "It would be extremely unwise to try to lie to us." She makes no special effort to coerce or otherwise intimidate him, but leaves the all-but spoken threat hanging in the air as she stands up, turns her back to the man and walks to the edge of the alleyway. She might as well play lookout- it's what she's best at.

Spoiler: Perception

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(1d20+11)[27] perception- you never know.

She looks over her shoulder at the inspection of their captives. "Just strip them- we'll have to do it sooner or later."

[zimmerwald1915]

Cynissa finishes wringing out the monks' sodden clothes, and slings them over her forearm. Their nearly-naked forms are beginning to shiver. "You've been very helpful, Jaray. It would be a shame to leave you all cold and without shelter on the streets … " she says, as another potential problem hits her. What if the relieved shift, coming back this way, discovers their real replacements? They will have to be moved. "The sewers are covered, and with the extra rain flow won't even smell too bad."

[Farmerbink]

Lamashan 2, 4715

Lillisandra creeps into the bedroom, and sniffs suspiciously. Something smells off... After a few moments, she pieces together the culprits: First, the lieutenant must have been bedridden for some time. His sheets smell.... ripe. Secondly, in apparent effort to hide the stench, several ... lavender scented candles have been lit throughout the room. The combination with shuttered windows forms an oppressive stench- all the better to hide the one on her clothing.

Lillisandra turns and puts up a finger to the Tieflings. They'll wait at the door. Noting the untouched meal, her lips turn upward into an almost feral smile. Yes, this will do nicely... Quietly, the Drow priestess makes the fullest use of her Elven grace, and approaches the bed. Her nose wrinkles only slightly as she approaches.

She mixes the powder into the cup, and gives it a moment of stirring to ensure that it's dissolved fully. Cup in one hand, she gently caresses the injured man's forehead in an effort to gently rouse him. "Dear, the doctor just left. He says you have to drink this, to stave off infections." His eyes only barely part. He grunts. "Please, I know it doesn't taste good, but you must!" She plays the insistent, but well-meaning housewife convincingly enough, and with some effort the man raises his head and drinks. In the gloomy room, for just a moment Lillisandra grimaces. She knows full well what's about to happen. As he struggles to drink from the cup, she raises the bottom and murmurs encouragingly. He finishes drinking, and she takes it, easing him back to the pillow. With a strained expression, she waits.

Almost 10 minutes later, the Lieutenant coughs. Within seconds, the fit has grown to a full-fledged attack. Lillisandra puts a hand reassuringly on his head. With the other hand, she reaches over the man, to grab a pillow. A small amount of pressure silences the coughs, and forces the man into unconsciousness. In a certain sense, the smothering eases the man's passing. At least he won't feel it, too much, she thinks. Within a matter of moments, he's no longer breathing. Lillisandra checks for a pulse, and finds none. Satisfied, she replace the pillow, and returns to the Tieflings. "We're done here."

Lillisandra carefully steps over the unconscious woman, headed towards the sewers.

[3SecondCultist]

Lillisandra, Lamashan 2, 4715

The color draining from the man's face, he sputters and spits up the remainder of the food in his mouth in a vain attempt to slow the poison's progress. He doesn't seem to have recognized you as an assassin, but the last words that escape his mouth are for his absent wife, even before you make use of the pillow. The suffocation leads into blissful unconsciousness, and his death comes along silently, like a stranger at a dance. There is a kind of grace in the man's passing: between breaths, tranquil and far away from here.

Both of the tieflings appear ready to leave by the time you're out of the bedroom. The mist has dissipated in the time it took for the dark reaver powder to take its full effect, giving you a view of the second floor landing and the stairs leading down into a plain, but elegant first floor parlor that leads out to the landing where the guards are no doubt stationed. Miron leans over the supine form of the lieutenant's wife, and you can see looking down at her that she's really quite pretty. The bulge in her stomach is visible to your scrutiny: she must be at least several months along. She hasn't woken up from her stupor, and you can see a bruise near her collarbone where your follower knocked her out. By the time she wakes up, you'll all be gone.

The three of you extricate yourselves from the dwelling without incident, and before long are crawling back out onto the street at the end of the block. The dottari on duty still hasn't seen you, and you're free to back to the inn to change and pay off the rest of your tab. Your job here is done.

Spoiler: OOC

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Alright, you've completed the morally ambiguous storyline! Hooray! I'm giving you 200 roleplaying xp for the assassination (incidentally the amount you would have gotten from defeating the dottari lieutenant in combat), which will put Lillisandra a bit further ahead of the rest of the party.

Also, killing a man in cold blood as Lillisandra has done here is an Evil action, and thus a step towards an alignment of Chaotic Evil. It won't result in an immediate alignment shift or anything, but call it a step in the wrong direction.

Lamashan 8, 4715

The pulse of healing magic from Lillisandra closes the wounds of the monks, dragging two of the three back into consciousness. The last breathes easier now as well. Explaining the situation to them, Jaray appears displeased but resigned to the scenario that is about to unfold. Stripping them after that is fairly easy, leaving all four of the Asmodeans shivering in the wet and cloying air of the evening. One of the resuscitated monks spits on the ground, and the other glares at Jaray for making this decision on their behalf. You don't doubt that they will all be punished for their incompetence here.

Four of you - Lillisandra, Hitori, Cynissa, and Scrap - now dressed in redactor's robes, that leaves only the smaller halfling without a proper disguise. Besides her size, the Asmodeans don't usually let halflings into their ranks, so it would strain belief that a team would count one among their number. None of the monks are ready to fight you, although there's the unspoken question of what to do with them now: letting them go back to the Temple is clearly not an option, since there's no telling how long it will take to investigate the Fantasmagorium and there's no doubt they would return with reinforcements. Given Hitori's oath not to harm them, that doesn't appear to be on the table either. The alternative is keeping these monks in chains somehow until your mission is complete, one way or the other.

Jaray appears troubled at Hitori's response in the devil's tongue, and hesitates before speaking again.

Spoiler: Infernal

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"Azalea... yes, she is known to some. She has been absent as of late, spending perhaps less time in the temple than someone of her rank ought. Her disappearances have been noted, but nobody knows where she goes when not on Temple grounds."

[Farmerbink]

Lamashan 2, 4715

Lillisandra frowns at the unconscious woman. In a hushed tone, she addresses the Tieflings. "Lest you get the wrong impression, I am not fond of destroying families. While he knew the risks of guard work, this was another matter altogether. Take more care, if you plan to spy, in the future." She sighs in the bathroom, unable to decide for the moment whether it would be a greater mercy to kill the woman as she slept, also. Perhaps it would, but enough people have paid for her self-described apprentices' mishap today. As she fits the grate to the seal, she has a final thought. Raising her holy symbol in the darkness, she calls upon Calistria's healing power.

Spoiler: Channel Positive energy

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(2d6)[4] HP to the woman, since the rest of us are unhurt.

Without waiting to note the result of the healing, she climbs down the stairs into the gloomy, odorous depths.

[NeoSeraphi]

Hitori frowns and glances sideways at Nissa. This wasn't good. Azalea was planning on taking over the city on her own. The bigger threat for her right now was Thrune himself, which meant that Azalea was likely trying to gather some allies. Hitori wasn't sure who among the strong in the city would voluntarily challenge Thrune, but he also knew firsthand that Azalea could be very persuasive when she wanted to be.

The new Ravens would get a target on their backs at some point, especially if the Rose of Kintargo saw fit to ally with them. If that happened, Azalea would likely make it a personal goal to kill Cynissa. She was the most skilled orator, the most motivated and active of the Ravens, and also the easiest to harm. But how could he defend Cynissa against an enemy without letting her know who the enemy was?

Hitori dresses up in the monk's robes. "Let them go," he tells the others. "If they are true Asmodeans they will honor their contract and breathe a word of this to no one. If they break that oath, they will incur the wrath of the inevitables, which is far more of an incentive than anything I could give them."

[zimmerwald1915]

Cynissa shrugs on her robes, fidgeting slightly as they fall over her body. They make a good disguise—loose enough to fit over her blouse and skirt, and long enough to cover the cuffs and hem—but they're coarse and waterlogged enough to be profoundly uncomfortable. They're also cut for a man. "How about you stay behind with Jaray and the others for a few minutes, Tori? Keep them from being seen or calling out. When it's safe to let them go, we'll give you a caw, and then you can join us."

What's made Cynissa even more uncomfortable than the robes are the looks the Hitori has been giving her, like he's warning her away from his conversation. He wouldn't be speaking Infernal if he didn't want it private, and of their group Cynissa is pretty sure she's the only other one who can speak it. Maybe he'd relish the opportunity to speak in true confidence with Jaray for a little while. The news that Hitori's erstwhile mistress is neglecting her duties troubles Cynissa as well. She knows enough about the Silver Ravens to have tried to co-opt them. That means she has political ambitions, and that means they're bound to clash someday.

Still, in a revolution, the machinations among the ruling class always come down to a choice: close ranks, or side with the masses. The latter choice can take two forms: co-option or genuine conversion. Azalea has failed at co-option once. She might try again, but the longer she waits the harder it will be for her. Satisfied that she is not an immediate threat, Cynissa turns her attention back to the raid. Everyone not guarding the monks leaves them in the alley, and gathers on the stoops of the Fantasmagorium.

Seeing Eva without an insignia, Cynissa rummages in her pouch and pulls out her iron pentacle. "Wear this, at least," she says. "It's no disguise, but it should ward the undead off. As for a disguise, it might help to look like a gnome." The scroll Cynissa had given the halfling would not change her physiology, but skin and hair color should be enough.

Spoiler: OOC

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Hey, another use for a silver raven. Sorry about the double talk. It was for the benefit of the prisoners. The idea is that once the monks inside are convinced to leave (and to pass south because the roads to the north are flooded ) we send a raven out as a signal. Eva's is following the dwarf, and Nissa's is heaven-knows-where, so I guess we're using Lilly's for this?

I'm not married to the idea of Hitori being the one to stay behind. If someone else wants to, or wants Nissa to, feel free to speak up.

[3SecondCultist]

Seeing no argument from Hitori, the rest of you leave the armored knight with the four shaking monks. The plan is set: Lillisandra's silver raven will serve as a messenger system once you're inside and have relieved the redactor shift. It would appear as though Hitori understands this, but Cynissa's riddle went right over the heads of the Asmodeans, since they only look at each other with expressions of blank confusion.

That done, the four other Ravens approach the double doors. The lock mechanism appears to be working perfectly well, which leads one to wonder just how the Asmodeans get in every night if not for the mithral key that Rexus gave you. Most likely, the departing shift leaves the main door unlocked from the inside when the next group comes to relieve them. But the doors are barred, and you are forced to use the same mithral key that your fellow Officer entrusted you with. Maybe they have copies somehow? Regardless, the key of the Sacred Archivists fits snugly in the hole, and turning it, you can push open the great dilapidated doors into the waiting space beyond.

Stepping through the threshold, the first thing you notice is just how musty the air is in here. The filtered dust of decades swirls around you, never quite invading your lungs but setting up for a siege. You stand in a kind of parlor, which opens into a great big domed hall further ahead. To your left, an open door reveals a side room, which holds various theatrical costumes, ropes, posts, blank signs and banners, paints, and some well-worm musical instruments, as well as an open cash-box for the daily ticket receipts. By the looks of things, this was probably the Fantasmagorium's box office in the days when it was still up and running.

Spoiler: OOC

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I've moved ahead Lillisandra (complete with new model!), Cynissa, Scrap, and Eva on the Roll20 map. From now on, I will be using your Passive Perception modifiers unless you take a move action to use it and look for things. Don't worry about Hitori - we will be busy doing some fun prequel stuff in another thread.

[Morbis Meh]

Eva lets the others decide what they want with the monks, she knew better than to make any objections since everyone else didn't follow her code and the last thing the needed was more infighting for the cause. She considered herself less of a leader of this cause and more of the person who just bleeds for it but honestly at this point she didn't care, she was getting older and she was really considering her future in a more positive light. So she would remain silent unless her opinion was asked, at least on mission since yelling would be a terrible idea when one was trying to be moderately stealthy.

Eva accepts the pendant but shivers as she puts it around her neck, she knew it was only in her head but the metal felt icy cold like it was biting her flesh. It was just wrong to wear it but objecting minute details would be pointless; however, she did scowl about the entire 'gnome' thing. She was not one of those fugly runts and would never attempt to mimic them.

"Cynissa sweety, you are forgetting that I have the perfect reason to be here, I am simply your slave acting as a body guard for you, my mistress. Just let me deal with people I have had plenty of first hand training with this sort of thing and people won't flinch at someone bringing their personal slave along with them for business." With that settled the halfling moves in front and cautiously steps forward into the building, paying closer attention than the previous missions because she had someone to go home to now. It doesn't take long for her to spot the shiny glint of coins and considering the state of this place the former proprietor shouldn't mind her taking them for use in a righteous cause. The ring on the other hand was curious, she takes a brief moment to focus her arcane senses on it, if it was indeed magical she would ensure that Cynissa properly identifies its attributes but for now she will slip in on her finger and carry on.

Spoiler: OoC

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Detect Magic on the ring

[zimmerwald1915]

"If you insist," says Cynissa quietly, but her surprise at Eva's decision shows on her face. She'd have thought nothing more abhorrent to the halfling than to play at slavery, having lived the real thing. Does she hate gnomes that much? What's more, Cynissa is pretty sure that while someone like Azalea might be allowed a personal slave, workaday scriveners would be denied that luxury. It doesn't change the story much. Eva could be Temple staff instead. But either way, maintaining the disguise would mean keeping her station. Scrap and Lilly aren't great talkers; with Eva silenced, and Hitori absent, Cynissa will have to convince the monks to leave herself.

Well, if she must, she must. She pulls out her scroll and nods to Scrap and Eva that they should do the same. With a murmured " … jisgus ve," and a sweeping gesture, she pulls the glamer from the parchment and lets it settle over her. The changes are subtle. The stolen star-spangled robe now falls gracefully from her shoulders, and cinches comfortably around her waist. When it moves, it always keeps her tail covered. Her hair poofs up to hide her horns completely, and her skin blanches a Chelish pale. Her walking stick somehow gains an extra few feet of length.

Cynissa strides confidently through the central chamber, labeled the "Hall of Cryptids" and lined with all manner of grotesqueries. The skulls of two ape-like skeletons follow the group as they pass. She doesn't pay them much mind. They can scour the Fantasmagorium once the redactors are gone and Raul is dealt with. Out comes Rexus's mithral key, and the door to the east wing—the "Hall of Historial Truths"—is unlocked.

Cynissa perks up at the name on the plaque, but is inevitably disappointed. The redactors had been true to their name, stripping the shelves and display cases of this room of everything but the dust. The undead are out in force here: five shambling corpses marching in a rough oval between the displays. Their flesh, rather than rotting, is the carbonized black of a cookfire. All are dressed in fine, but scorched and charred, silks. Cynissa suppresses a shudder, and moves on. She can hear the sounds of monks at work from the next room.

There is no door separating it from the Hall of Historical Truths. Now that she's closer, Cynissa can see it's laid out like a shop, and indeed the plaque beside the door reads "Emporium Arcana." Rather than passing the threshold, Cynissa knocks at the doorframe. "Evening shift's in," she calls. "Anything new from Azvernathi, or just more of the same?" The monks rise from their papers, and Cynissa snaps her fingers like she just remembered something. "You'll want to get back to the Temple by way of Redroof Market. We went by the Golden Veils Bank, and the streets were starting to flood." Cynissa's robes drip noisily on the floor.

Spoiler: OOC

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Disguise 14, Bluff 31, both rolled in the roll20 chat.

[3SecondCultist]

The macabre taxidermy and menacing skeletons of the great domed 'Hall of Cryptids' greets you silently. The two sasquatch skeletons that are affixed to the museum's walls hollowly stare out at their surroundings, but don't move as you all pass through the entryway. The dust is thicker here, disturbed by the odd footprint, and although some of you half-expect these skeletons to come crashing out at you, they are eerily still. Cynissa leads the charge through the door to the east, and as the three of you follow, you step further into the Fantasmagorium and into the 'Hall of Historical Truths'. This series of open galleries to the east might have once held numerous paintings and other objects of curiosity in several glass cases, but today the displays are all empty. There are no less than five zombies shambling around the area, although since you're all wearing the right insignias, they let you pass without incident.

As you're walking, both Eva and Lillisandra pick up on something particular about the zombies. The charred smell aside, there appears to be two of their number who are wearing what look like blackened signet rings on their necrotic fingers. It's hard to tell from this distance, but the crest appears familiar. You're certain you've seen it before somewhere.

Eventually, you come to your destination, the very first room that Scrap and Vendalfek saw when they scouted the place: the 'Emporium Arcana'. This room looks more like a storefront than any of the other displays that you've seen, with many fanciful recreations of minor displays with price tags in antiquated print. The redactors have done a fine job of tearing the place apart, and it appears as though most of the shop has been stripped to the very barest of bones. The four Asmodeans all appear quite tired, no doubt working as they have been for some time. One of them has a chart, which he signs off and hands to Cynissa with a resigned nod. He doesn't even appear to register the fact that the half-elf, the elf, or the halfling with the Asmodean pendant. "He's in the office, as usual. Remember to give this to him to make sure he witnesses your hours." Gathering his fellows, the four of them begin to make their way out of the Emporium and through the same door that leads you back outside. "Thanks for the tip! We'll make sure to take the other route.", the redactor calls over his shoulder as he shoulders his robes in preparation for the miserable Kintargan night.

After about a minute, the redactors are all gone. The only sounds you can hear throughout the eastern wing of the facility is the soft shambling of the five animated zombies and some footsteps emanating from behind the door to the north.

Spoiler: OOC

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Alright, I'm awarding you all XP as if you had defeated these monks in combat! I'm going to let you all roleplay sending Hitori the silver raven once the redactors are out of the building and safely away. You'll have some time to wait before that happens, so you're welcome to explore the Emporium and the Hall of Historical Truth in the meantime.

Farmer / Morbis: either of you can make DC 12 Knowledge (Nobility) checks to recognize the signet rings as Victocora signet rings: two of the zombies are Rexus' parents. Oh, and it's Lillisandra's raven that is going to notify Hitori, so you should probably include that in your post as well Farmer.

[Rofltrollcopter]

Lamashan 7, 4715; The Wasp's Nest

Scrap struggles as Cynissa attempts to help free from the mess he had gotten himself into. He's not used to being able to rely on others to solve problems on his behalf. Watch it! he shouts as he accidentally gets one of his fingers squeezed between two rings. All of his bluster and energy immediately fade as he feels the smooth touch of Cynissa's fingers on his skin. Scrap's eyes widen and his breathing becomes shallow. He pulls himself away from Cynissa's touch in a panicked frenzy. Scrap feels nauseous, and he can feel his flesh crawl at the spot where he had been violated. The scared child looks frantically around the room. Blood runs down from his hand, where he had accidentally hurt himself in his haste to get away from Cynissa.

It four weeks since the incident with Lillisandra. This time however, Scrap did not lash out at anyone. I'll... I'll do it. He muttered. He kept his eyes downcast, ensuring he didn't meet the gaze of anyone else in the room. He fumbled with the armor and eventually got it off. Events resumed their normal course.


Lamarshan 8, 4715


Scrap snarled as Tori shoved him aside. What did he think he was? They were his prey. Tori had just sat around on his ass while everyone else had done all of the real work. Tori hadn't even respected him enough to look him in the eyes when he did it, to show that he took Scrap seriously. Scrap didn't care about creating a show of discord in front of the enemy. He stared straight into the eyes of the older man, challenging him.

Scrap respected strength. Laria had proven himself by besting Scrap in open combat. Eva was an accomplished warrior, she had shown as much when fighting the Monks. Scrap only understood about half of what Nissa was talking about, but she stood her ground and took a beating from the dwarf. She was willing to place her body on the line in defense of her Words. That counted for something in Scrap's books. Lilly had proven her power by healing Scrap's wounds, and Scrap did register gratitude, even if it wasn't apparent all the time. Scrap had attacked her with his magic, and she hadn't been driven off.

Over the last few weeks, Tori had not demonstrated any strength whatsoever. He liked to talk big, but he never had performed any actions to back it up. If Scrap had been raised with the traditional societal indoctrination of Gender Identities and Stereotypes, he would have thought that Eva had more balls then Tori. He had gotten caught by the Order of the Rack, he had been too weak to enter Clenchjaws, and now he had stood back while everyone else had fought.

Don't. F*****. Touch Me. Scrap spat out.

If it wasn't for the presence of other people that Scrap respected, a fight might have broken out right then and there. Instead, he looked back to the monks.

Try to run. Get help Scrap said. His voice was sincere and filled with longing. Please. We want to hurt you. We want to see what you look like on the inside.

Scrap was silent while the plan was enacted. It was all about boring talky stuff, and Scrap could honestly cared less about it. The robe itched it and he hated it. It smelled too much like another person for him to comfortable in it. He was quite bored when the group walked through the Emporium Arcana. If it was the first time had seen it, he would have been fascinated by all of the strange objects. But he had spent a week scouting the place, and that had been sufficient time for Vendalfek to offer his lengthy commentary on everything that was inside the place. It took all of his self-control to not lash out at the Monks while Nissa was talking at them. His bloodlust had been riled up by the fight inside, and it had yet to be sated. To keep his mind off the vulnerable arteries in the necks of the Monks, he stared around the room, looking around carefully for any details he may have missed.

Spoiler: OOC:

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Perception: (1d20+9)[22]

[NeoSeraphi]

Hitori rolls his eyes at the brash boy's backlash. That violent pride was going to get him killed one day. Not that the knight cared. He meant what he said when he told Cynissa that all conjuration magic should be banned. If Hitori had his way that boy would have been a corpse laying in the street collecting flies ages ago.

It didn't matter anyway. For all his bluster, the boy had no influence. Hitori negotiated his deal in peace and waited for the raven to arrive after the monks had left. When it did, the knight checks to make sure his monk robes are smooth and in place before entering the Fantasmagorium.

When Hitori enters the chamber he immediately grimaces and covers his nose. "By the Nine, it smells like death in here...oh, beg your pardon." He chuckles as he spots the group of zombies and shakes his head. Animating the dead was by no means uncommon, but it wasn't something your average initiate could pull off either. Whoever this cleric was, he was going to be tough.

The Victocora signet ring catches his eye. Cracking his knuckles, Hitori shakes his head and keeps walking. "Look at that, I was right. What a surprise. Glad we risked life and limb to come here and find that out."

When he regroups with the others, Hitori crosses his arms. "I don't know what's here, but I can tell you what's not: the sorcerer's mother. Are we quite finished now, or do you insist on getting us killed by traveling further?"

He directs his questions to Lilissandra, though it is quite obvious to everyone but Scrap that his tone and annoyance are both aimed squarely at the tiefling. He doesn't spare Nissa a single glance.

[zimmerwald1915]

Cynissa shakes her head. Hitori can only mean that he recognized Porcia and her husband among the zombies. That meant they had indeed burned along with their house, and had been taken to serve their murderers. The news weighs on Cynissa, and she hadn't expected to find them alive. She can only imagine its effect on Rexus. Still, the Ravens' purpose in Hocum's Fantasmagorium goes beyond their benefactor's individual purpose. Thrune's corrupted, dishonored hands have no place on Porcia's work. Cynissa snatches up the time sheet and glances pointedly at the door to the museum office.

"We have a plan, it's working, we are sticking to it," she says evenly. If she raises her voice, Azvernathi might hear her. "Standard procedure is apparently for Raul to sign in each incoming shift. We can ask about the Irorians' hideout then." She unlocks the back door, and opens it a crack in case they need to run, then starts toward the cleric's office.

[Farmerbink]

Lillisandra behaves almost completely without concern as the monks are dealt with. She eyes Hitori doubtfully at the man's confident statement that some sense of honor would protect the party. Still, no one else seems to object, so perhaps there's truth to his words. In either case, what will be will be.

The priestess shudders slightly under the eyeless gaze of the zombies and skeletons. With only false confidence, she follows Cynissa through the room, tense as a prowling cat. The lackadaisical response from the departing monks only serves to confuse her- I guess anything can be boring, if you do it enough, she wonders. As they depart down the same hallway, she can't help but be surprised that the zombies don't tear them limb from limb.

Relatively safe, she retrieves the small silver bird from a pouch at her waist. She whispers a message and simple instructions, and the trinket flits to the wall, squeezes through an unseen gap near the window and into the darkness. With a hint of awe, Lillisandra watches the creature serve its purpose.

For the third time, her heart threatens to burst from her chest as Hitori walks- almost lighthearted- among the undead. She follows his gaze and resumes her self torment at her inability to place the symbol. She nods slowly, as Hitori inadvertently reveals where she's seen the symbol before. "Well, to be fair, she's here, just not... you know. Alive. My raven?" She accepts the bird back from Hitori, and shakes her head ruefully, the irony of her last week's excursion completely lost upon her.

Finally, as they wait for the cleric to arrive, she weighs in with Cynissa. "It was always a secondary concern, at best. There's more to be done here than a family rescue mission." With an eager gleam in her eyes, Lillisandra's hand subconsciously grasps the handle of her whip. "Besides, it's about time we start hitting back." She forces herself to release the weapon, and lets the robe fall to the floor to conceal it again.

As an afterthought, she adds, "we should try to recover those signet rings, if we can... Later, though."

Cynissa opens the door onward, prompting a quick call of "oh! wait just a moment, dear." With a smile, Lillisandra sways forward, and places a hand on Cynissa's covered shoulder. "sages paroles," she whispers. A hint of divine magic infuses the transmuter, as she steps into the hallway.

[3SecondCultist]

After some minutes of searching what remains of the shop, you find a few peculiarities left behind or simply ignored by the Asmodeans in their constant searching. Between bits of twine and other arcane oddities, there's enough materials here to put together at least two separate spellcasting pouches, as well as what appears to be a bottle of lead-based ink, five miniature ivory sculptures in the shape of doors, a roll of fine copper wire, and two bags of valuable dust - one of silver, and one of diamond. None of the documents really looks all that interesting, as the lack of any actual redactions implies.

But that's not all you find among the remains of the room. There's a strange stone among the collection, something else the monks left behind. It appears quite mundane at first, but as you look at it further, you can make out the contours of a strange looking mark on it. Even looking at it up close takes another few moments of observation before some of you recognize the symbol: it's the exact same mark that Scrap bears on his face.

Before any of you have a chance to react, however, the doors to the office burst open and a man walks through. His flame-red beard and hair are quite bright, and almost take away attention from his dark armor and robes. He wears a breastplate complete with an Asmodean sigil on it, and carries a pair of exceptional looking maces at his belt. Given Scrap's earlier description, this must be Azvernathi Raul. The cleric's eyes are keen and assessing, and yet he doesn't meet your eyes right away, absorbed as they are by a scroll he's currently reading. "You're late," Raul says when he finally meets your gaze. "You were supposed to be here right at eight o'clock. Tell me, why shouldn't I make note of this in the record?"

[NeoSeraphi]

Hitori steps forward. "A thousand pardons, my lord Azvernathi Raul," he says, with a distinctly thick Minkaian accent replacing his normally rough and brutish Varisian tone. "I am, new to the faith. I stumbled during this morning's prayer to Layla, singing 'Ashlar tirese nach'thal' instead of 'Ashlan tirene nach'thal', so we had to start all over."

He bows deeply. The lines of prayer he had selected were indeed notoriously difficult to distinguish in Layla's prayer, there was a belief in the church that She chose those lines to ensure new infernal worshippers would be forced to spend more time praying to Her than anyone else, thus increasing the likeliness of them selecting Her as a primary deity.

Hitori feels a bit tense, but the robes do not disguise his darker skin or almond eyes, so claiming to be new is the best plan. Of course, he was the only one among them who had the knowledge necessary to pose as an Asmodean in the first place, so keeping the others' mouths shut was important too.